Half-heartbroke

That's sort of how I'm feeling for not having been able to see yesterday's total eclipse of the sun. I've known for months that it would be totality in Ontario and had planned in my mind to go. Only as things worked out, that just wasn't to be. 

Sure, as you can see, the images on tv were pretty amazing, but the experience certainly isn't the same as seeing one live. 

My first one was when I was about five, though I'm not finding much in the way of corroborating evidence. I know I was with my mother and that we went to local lakeside and had to hold up eye protection to be safe. Bizarrely, I think that may have consisted of doubled-up negative sheets from then-common rolls of film. For all I know, that might be when my eyes faded from supposedly dark brown to the more hazel they now are. 

Later, there was one (probably partial) here in BC, a wintry-seeming day, so likely overcast. I mostly remember that it got darker and there wasn't any birdsong--in itself a chilling factor. 

And then, quite a good one in August of 2017. My sister came to visit and the two of us sat on deck chairs out in the front yard, exchanging small talk with the occasional passerby, feeling so cool in our hardly-Hollywood cardboard viewing glasses. An elderly man who lived down the street was taking a stroll with his son, and we lent the two of them our glasses so they could look without harming their eyes. It was strange, as despite what had seemed like a lot of publicity, neither of them had been aware of the scheduled eclipse. As Garth, the older man, handed back my glasses, he thanked me and said he was pretty sure he wouldn't see another. Sure enough, a few months later, he was gone. 

So I called this post 'half-heartbroke' and I can't pretend that I'm not super sad, but yes, not totality in the 'heartbroke' department, as I'm pretty sure that I'm not in the same situation as Garth and that yes, I will be around to view another one, even if it isn't from the comfort of our yard. 

At least that's certainly my hope. The only thing I know for sure is that when it comes again I plan to get myself into the path of the next one. Spain is sounding pretty tempting. I even have my old glasses from the one here in 2017 ready and waiting. 

The moon comes announcing Easter

Kind of an eerie photo from the other night, but one I thought captured some of the mystery of the full moon. 

This one, which technically arrived just after midnight (here in the Pacific Zone) on Monday, is apparently called the Worm Moon, something I would never have known without all the crazy information here on the internet. 

It's also the full moon that determines the date for Easter. This celebration, one that I mostly celebrate with coloured eggs and chocolate (mmmm...), takes place the first Sunday after the first full moon after the spring equinox. This formula was apparently one of the matters determined in the year 325 by the Council of Nicaea. From what I can tell, the folks who gathered at this meeting made decisions about nearly all the tenets that form the basis of Christian beliefs. 

The other event I managed to miss the other night when that full moon was official was a partial lunar eclipse, an occurrence that this time serves as a kind of warm-up act for next month's solar eclipse. But then, I'm not on the track where that will be visible so I'll have to be satisfied watching it (as it sometimes seems I spend so much of my life) online. Still, pretty miraculous. 

Eclipsed?

Earlier this morning I headed outside, hoping to get a glimpse of the partial eclipse that was supposed to be visible here. 

But instead of a view of the sun, I was greeted by clouds. 

Still, because I know how quickly our weather can change (yes, it can be an all-weathers-in-a-day kind of place), I poked around in the garden a bit, waiting in case the clouds might blow past.  

Luckily I knew where my special eclipse-viewing glasses were--the same pair from when I'd watched

the total eclipse in 2017. When I put them on, I thought they must have gone 'bad' from being so old, as I couldn't see anything through them. But I guess that's exactly how dark they're supposed to be, as a few minutes later when the sky cleared a bit, there it was--a partially occluded sun!

I didn't want to fry the light-sensing unit in my faithful little camera, so I refrained from trying to shoot with it. As a result, all I can do is tell you what I saw: in essence, a 'crescent sun' with the 'C' of its shape pointing downward, the black circle of the moon beneath. But here's a link to a news story about the event as it took place on the south end of Vancouver Island, not so far from here as the proverbial crow flies. It contains a few amazing images, which may help satisfy your craving for a glimpse of what I got to see today. 

Backyard astronomy

Last night's lunar eclipse was pretty spectacular. The nice thing about an eclipse of the moon is that it takes place over a few hours and -- even better -- you can look at it without the risk of eye damage.

You can tell from the photo that I didn't have access to a tripod, so the slow exposure required meant that I moved, blurring the image. No amount of breath-holding or trying to 'freeze' seemed to make any difference. Still, I am pleased with the way the camera captured the bright red colour. No PhotoShop enhancement, I promise.

This hue is the obvious reason it's called a 'blood moon' and there are plenty of explanations available online about that term, as well the longer title applied to last night's manifestation (super blood wolf moon), including prophecies that might scare your pants off if you believe them.

I'm just glad we had clear skies last night and that it was warm enough to keep popping outside to look at it. Among quotes attributed to Snoopy is one where he refers to the moon as looking like a "dirty beach". That certainly wasn't the case last night.

Getting ready to say 'Au revoir'

...to the sun. But just for a little while. After all, the meaning of 'au revoir' does suggest 'until we see each other again.'

I've got my fingers crossed that our blue skies will continue, as I really want to watch as much as I can of tomorrow's solar eclipse. Even though where we live will only see an 89% occlusion, I reckon it will be memorable.

I know there are plenty of stories that feature this solar phenomenon, but I'd have to say my favourite is Tintin's adventure in South America, Prisoners of the Sun, where Tintin's knowledge of science (and of a solar eclipse) saves him from death.

The safe glasses are ready, and so am I.

And the livin' is easy...

...At least that's what the song says about summertime. Somehow this time of year isn't always "easy" as one might think, as it's often pretty darn busy. Much of that 'busy-ness' is at least outdoors -- and not 'on the computer'. Although this isn't really a heartbreak for me, it does mean I've been lazy about stepping out onto the big limb.

The photo above is an alcove on our deck -- a special spot where I like to read or even take a summertime nap. I call it The Boathouse. No particular reason, though I suppose the worn boards contribute to the feeling of someone's boathouse on a lake. So, even though Goolwa isn't on a lake (it's on the sea at the mouth of a river), the boat print serves well as part of the outdoor art.

But the thing is, this summer has been busy enough that I've barely spent any time in my beloved reading/relaxing spot. I'm thinking that maybe this will change in the next few days, especially where we've just had a celestial event that's supposed to signify big changes all around. (Am I the only one who remembers the song that celebrated the "dawning of the Age of Aquarius"?)

In the spirit of seeking change, but at the same time being realistic, I'm aiming for Monday as a day for relaxing and reading in my boathouse. I picked up two delicious-looking novels at the library, so I'm set, especially if I can finish all my projects in the kitchen!

Partly because all the fruits have been ahead of schedule, I've spent an awful lot of time freezing fruits for winter, making jam and even baking. To finish off this year's bounty of plums, I'm going to have get out the canner, as there's basically no more room in the freezer.

Yet even as I contemplate how to deal with the flavourful blessings, I've had to go out and pick again this afternoon. Not a bad little batch for ten minutes in the sun. They should make a very nice dessert.

So even if the livin' ain't always completely 'easy' I'm not about to complain.

Return of the light(s)

Just over twelve hours ago, the earth started to pass between the moon and the sun, and a magical lunar eclipse began. Magical because totality occurs on the same day as this year's winter solstice. Apparently, the convergence of events hasn't happened for a few hundred years.

Anyway, when this special eclipse started, I was disappointed, because the sky here was cloudy. Still, because I knew what was going on up there, I thought about it, imagining what people long ago must have thought about such an occurrence.

And then just before midnight, the sky opened up, revealing a dusky orange moon, with only the barest fingernail crescent of bright light on one side. Again, I thought of those people from long ago and suspected they would have been tossing more fuel on the fire -- logs at least, if not a sacrifice of some sort.

Just after twelve, when the moon was about to go into full occlusion, the clouds returned, shrouding what showed of the moon. When it's visible but not reflecting light from the sun, it's easy to see that it's really just a big rock. Still, a pretty magical one.

About twelve hours from now will be the official observance of this year’s winter solstice, so I'm in my element. Magic in every direction. And we'll be on our way to having the light come back...

As for the lights above, they're from our little hibiscus trees in holiday regalia, with the camera trying to move as fast as the spinning earth.

Happy Solstice celebrating!